The Beginning of the End
by Frodo
Summary: Mordor is supposedly deserted and the Middle Earth is at peace. Sam has settled into Bag End after his master's departure but he is brought news that Frodo is in trouble. CHAPTER 12 NOW UP!
1. An Unexpected Visitor

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

_This is the start of my version of the fourth book of The Lord of the Rings. Although this story may not follow the Appendixes in the back of Return of the King, I tried to keep as close to the story as I could. Please let me know what you think, ideas and constructive critisism are always appreciated._

Mount Doom. A complete wreckage, a pile of crumbled rocks billowing with thick clouds of black, poisonous gases. The whole place is beyond repair - deserted, ugly and silent, reeking of the evil things that came to pass only two years before. 

But contrary to what the people of Gondor believe and indeed spread throughout the Middle Earth, the barren wasteland of Mordor is not completely deserted, and neither is it entirely silent. 

Amidst the rubble, in a cave that was crafted from the fragmented boulders, a creature still dwells. It spends its days hunched up in the pitch darkness of its repulsive home, unhealthily thin with no company except for the muddled thoughts that spin in its decaying mind. 

It sits, its long, lank hair hanging like rat tails around its hideous face so that only the creature's large, bulbous eyes are visible. 

The creature turns something over and over in its long, thin fingers. The something is golden, glinting in the dim light that filters through the cracks in the rocks. 

If anyone had been happening to pass through Mordor on that particular night, the eighth of April, the fourteenth after New Year,and they had walked through the place where not long ago the cracks of doom had proudly stood, they would have heard the creature mutter two, single words, 

"My...precious..." 

And hundreds of miles away, lying in his cabin on a tall and beautiful ship, the hobbit Frodo Baggins awoke from a restless sleep with a cry. 

*** 

To Samwise Gamgee, the Shire was looking better than he'd seen it for many years. He wandered through the garden of Bag End, proudly inspecting the fox gloves he had planted in honour of his master's depart, nearly two weeks ago. 

The garden was always calming to Sam, and he was seeking calm that morning, for he had suffered a uneasy night. 

His dreams had been plagued with thoughts of his master, for some reason unknown to him. 

Still plainly in his mind Sam could see how Frodo had appeared in his dream, shaking, white and sweating as if just awoken from a nightmare, and in his head Sam could hear a voice, though he could not distinguish the words. The voice was hissing and low, and though Sam didn't want to think of it, he knew the voice belonged to Gollum. 

Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, Sam moved to another part of the garden. He was just bending down to pull up a weed that was sprouting in the flower bed when his ears detected hoof beats on the path beside his garden. 

A puzzled expression on his face, Sam peered over his fence and saw that a tall palamino steed was approaching, with a rider that seemed terribly familiar to Sam. The horse was travelling at great speed and soon the rider was almost beside Sam, and the hobbit gave a cry of recognition 

"Well, bless me!" Sam exclaimed, running to meet the rider as he dismounted, "Legolas! Why, it's been months!" 

The fair haired elf smiled, "Longer than that Master Gamgee, nearly two years to be precise!" 

He embraced the hobbit and then held him at arm's length to look him over, 

"You are well I see!" 

"Oh very, Sir," Sam replied with a smile, "Been keeping busy since my master left. You knew of his departure of course?" 

"Yes, and that is partly why I am here Sam," Legolas told him, his expression changing to a frown, "But before I tell my tale, I would like to sit down in the warmth. For I have ridden hard from Rivendell and I am weary." 

Sam nodded apologetically, 

"Of course, where are my manners? Come in, come in, I'll tell Rosie to put the tea on..." 

**Next chapter up soon**


	2. A Familiar Journey

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

_This is the start of my version of the fourth book of The Lord of the Rings. Although this story may not follow the Appendixes in the back of Return of the King, I tried to keep as close to the story as I could. Please let me know what you think, ideas and constructive critisism are always appreciated._

"So how are things in Rivendell? The elves are all keeping well I hope?" Sam asked as he set down a mug of tea in front of Legolas with a smile.

"Perfectly well, thank you Sam. Bilbo is still alive and healthy. And your family are sound I trust?"

Sam smiled fondly through the window to where his wife Rosie stood at the garden gates, talking to a neighbour. She was holding his young daughter Eleanor in the crook of her arm.

"Very sound," He replied, drawing his eyes away and joining Legolas at the large pine table that was situated in the centre of the roomy kitchen.

The elf's eyes met his own and Sam noticed that there was a glimmer of anxiety in his expression.

"Well Legolas, as pleasant as it is to see you after all this time, I trust you haven't come here just to say hello?"

"No Sam," Legolas replied, taking a draught of his tea, "I have some rather disturbing news, and I'm afraid it concerns Frodo."

Sam felt his stomach crawl as if some silent fear had taken hold of him.

"A few nights ago Frodo vanished unexpectedly from the ship that he left on," Legolas explained, "When they went to wake him the next morning his cabin was empty and there was no sign of him. No one saw him go and the ship docked at the coast far South but no one on mainland had neither seen nor heard of him."

Sam tried to unjumble his mind as the information soaked in but he couldn't seem to get everything into perspective. The elf continued,

"There's been word of Mordor Sam. Do you remember when Sauron was first beginning to regain his power and slowly dread began to grow throughout Gondor? I believe the same thing is happening now, though no one can explain why. The land on which Mount Doom once stood has been deserted for months or so they say."

Sam lowered his eyes to the table and eventually he said,

"Legolas, I don't understand. When my master left, well, I thought he was safe. I thought I was letting him go to somewhere where he'd be at peace. I promised that I'd never leave him but when he left for the Grey Havens I thought that it was the right thing for him to do..."

"Sam," Legolas told him gently, "You cannot blame yourself for this, indeed I don't know who is to blame, but it is important that we find Frodo as quickly as possible. If there is any evil remaining in Mordor it is likely that it will be seeking revenge upon your master. I need you to come with me."

Sam raised his eyes in astonishment,

"Go with you? Where?"

"Back to Rivendell. King Aragorn made it quite clear that you must be sent for immediately."

"But why?"

"We may need your help in locating Frodo, you know him better than anyone Sam. Aragorn is impatient to speak with you. I think he is more worried about Frodo than I've ever seen him."

Sam's eyes strayed to the window,

"But I can't just leave Rosie and little Eleanor..."

"You must Sam. Frodo might be in some kind of trouble."

Sam rose heavily from the table,

"I-"

He was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door and he raised his eyebrows apologetically and went to answer it.

To his surprise, he found that when he opened the door none other than Merry and Pippin were stood on his doorstep.

"Hello Sam!" Pippin instantly greeted him, entering uninvited and giving him a pat on the back, "We haven't seen you for a few weeks have we?"

"No, but what are you doing here?" Sam asked, his tone rather sharp as his head was still filled with all that Legolas had told him.

Taken-aback by his abruptness Merry and Pippin stared at him,

"Well nice to see you too!" Merry replied huffily, "We were just visiting some old friends and we thought 'Let's drop in on old Samwise and see if he's well' and this is the thanks we get! I don't believe we're wanted Pip!"

"No, no," Sam said quickly, feeling slightly guilty, "I'm just a bit muddled up."

"Aah right," Pippin nodded, unclasping his cloak and hanging it on the stand, "And I don't suppose that has anything to do with the rather impressive Palomino that's tied outside does it?"

"You could say that. You see, I've got a visitor..."

"That's right," Legolas said, suddenly appearing from the kitchen. Merry and Pippin's faces broke into astonished smiles,

"Legolas! Well this is a surprise!" Merry exclaimed as they embraced, "I suppose that explains the horse..."

The four of them went into the kitchen and Merry and Pippin helped themselves to tea and a slice or two of Sam's ginger cake in typical hobbit-fashion.

"So what brings you here Legolas?" Pippin asked the elf with a mouth full of cake.

Legolas proceeded in telling him everything he'd told Sam and by the end of the tale the hobbits had lost their grins and now their faces were concerned.

"So are you going then Sam?" Merry asked, noticing that Sam was not saying a lot but tracing a circle on the table with his finger and keeping his eyes low. Sam didn't look up but he knew that Legolas was looking at him expectantly.

"Yes. I'm going." He eventually replied, "If it's to help my master...and well...I haven't seen Rivendell in an age..."

Legolas smiled, "Thank you Sam. I see you are as courageous and brave as you ever were."

"Courageous and brave...what would the Gaffer say if he heard you saying that..." Sam mumbled, busying himself with the empty mugs and plates to hide his red face.

"So when do we leave?" Pippin asked, helping Sam with the dishes.

"We?" Legolas replied, genuinely puzzled.

Pippin turned to look at him in disbelief,

"Of course _we_! You're not going gallivanting off to Rivendell without us! Isn't that right Merry?"

"Definitely," Merry agreed, now taking a bite out of one of Sam's apples, "You try and stop us! We were part of the Fellowship too you know! Whatever includes Frodo includes us!"

Legolas smiled in spite of himself,

"Very well, but we will be riding long and hard. I wish to reach Rivendell in three days. I suggest you hurry home and collect your things. You will need ponies."

"We can easy enough borrow some from Mr. Proudfoot," Pippin assured him, already rushing to get his cloak, "Don't leave without us!"

Merry fastened his cloak with his elven clasp and gave Legolas and Sam a cheery smile,

"And don't you worry about Frodo, Sam. We'll be back as soon as we can."

Legolas watched them through the window as they hastened down the winding path from Bag End. He shook his head and smiled,

"Frodo has very loyal friends Sam, that's all I'm saying."

***

Sam found the journey to Rivendell surprisingly pleasant. Unlike the journey he had taken with Frodo, Pippin and Merry when carrying the ring, they were not in fear of any Ring wraiths and they were free to ride on the road, so their pace was considerably faster. Legolas kept their spirits bright by singing elven songs in his clear voice that seemed to bounce off the surrounding trees and echo through the entire land.

Within two days they had reached Weather top and Sam gazed up at it with mixed feelings, remembering how his master had been injured terribly by the wraiths' unyielding spear. He felt suddenly incredibly concerned for Frodo and willed his pony on.

Sam hadn't been entirely comfortable with leaving Rosie and Eleanor alone, but Rosie had been understanding as she usually was and had told Sam that he must go if the King had summoned him. It made Sam smile to think how immensely proud of him she had sounded when she said it. This somehow lightened his heart and he relaxed slightly, letting the voice of Legolas float around him and the bright sunshine warm his back.

By the afternoon of the third day of their trip they had reached Rivendell, and once again Sam was completely overwhelmed by its radiance. It was as perfect and peaceful as he ever remembered and just entering its boundaries gave Sam comfort. Spring was evident throughout the place and flowers were just beginning to bloom, more beautiful than Sam had ever seen in a whole lifetime of gardening, save perhaps those which he had seen beneath the blissful trees of Lothlórien where The Lady dwelt.

Presently, the small group reached the heart of Rivendell and they dismounted their ponies. To the delight of the three hobbits, Elrond himself and Gimli the dwarf were there waiting for their arrival.

"We meet again young hobbits," Gimli greeted them, giving them all a friendly smile, "I would have journeyed with Legolas to meet you myself, but you know that I am not too fond of riding horses, and Legolas rides his horse at such a swift pace..."

"I am glad that he does," Elrond said, also giving the hobbits a warm smile, "You have done well to return to Rivendell in such a short space of time. I trust that Legolas has informed you of the situation?"

"Yes sir," Sam replied, giving a slight bow of his head, "I'm sorry to be impatient, but I am growing ever concerned, could I ask if there has been any word of my master, Mr. Frodo?"

"Master Gamgee, you should not feel inclined to bow to me, for you are the one that accompanied the Ring-bearer into the very depths of Mordor and saved us all. However, I have been instructed not to tell you anything of your Master until you have met with King Aragorn and he has requested a meeting with you as soon as you are ready, but first you must eat and sit down, you must be weary after your ride. Come with me, and you too Masters Peregrin and Merry, although we were not expecting you it is a pleasant surprise and you are, of course, extremely welcome."

Merry and Pippin smiled in thanks and the three hobbits, Gimli and Legolas followed Elrond out of the courtyard and through a proud white archway.

**Next chapter up soon**


	3. A Meeting at Rivendell

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

_This is the start of my version of the fourth book of The Lord of the Rings. Although this story may not follow the Appendixes in the back of Return of the King, I tried to keep as close to the story as I could. Please let me know what you think, ideas and constructive critisism are always appreciated._

Chapter 3

Frodo Baggins felt his exhausted limbs collapse underneath him as his weary body decided that it could take no more. He felt himself falling, tumbling down into some unknown doom, and then everything was still.

After what seemed an incredibly long time his breathing began to come in more even breaths instead of gasps that shook his entire body and left him dizzy and nauseous. He managed to open his eyes and immediately shut them again as the bright sunlight poured into his vision.

When he felt that he could sit up, Frodo used his hand to shield his eyes from the beaming light and peered around. He saw that he had fallen into a muddy ditch at the roadside and was lying on a heap of mouldy leaves. Listening to his racing heart, Frodo allowed himself to lay back down to regain his strength and try to straighten out his thoughts.

The previous days had been unlike any that Frodo had ever experienced. The night he had awoken on the ship had been the start of a journey he had never for a moment expected the day he left for the Grey Havens.

After his vivid nightmare, Frodo had fled the ship in fear. The ocean had been freezing, like blades stabbing him all over, but somehow he had managed to swim to shore where he succeeded in stealing a horse. The horse had been swift and he had covered a great distance in a short amount of time, but he had become so tired that he could no longer keep upright on his steed, so the horse soon unsaddled him and took off back into the wilderness. Frodo had then been forced to stumbled on alone, with no clear notion of where he was heading. He had the faint idea in his head that his destination was the Shire, simply because of one memory that kept tugging at his mind. He remembered being in Mordor with Sam on the last day of their quest when his hope had long departed and his body was drained of strength and will to go on. He remembered when the desire to put on the Ring had become so strong that he could not withstand it and Sam had put his hands palm to palm and held them between his own, determined not the give up on his master. Frodo knew that he must get to Sam.

He found it difficult to explain, even to himself, what was happening. Ever since his dream he had felt something pulling him, dragging him by some unseen force to the place where he dreaded to go. It was as if icy fingers were tearing at his skin and forcing him against his will, and to fight their incessant grip was almost too much for him to bear. But that was what he had been doing, and quite plainly it was leaving him weak and helpless.

The thoughts in Frodo's head were still muddled so he spoke aloud to try and work the puzzle out,

"Gollum has the ring. The ring is making me feel like I have to go back to Mordor."

As the word Mordor escaped his lips, Frodo shuddered and felt more defenceless than before. He needed someone to help him. He needed a friend.

"Sam..." He mumbled, but his eyes would not stay open a minute longer, and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

After the three hobbits had bathed and eaten, Elrond escorted them to a large, cavernous hall that was lit by dozens upon dozens of candles. The ceiling rose high above their heads and disappeared into a vast, black void above them. The candles threw shadows off the walls and made the hall look perhaps more impressive than anything the hobbits had ever seen.

At the far end of the hall there stood several chairs and amidst the chairs sat a large and regal throne. Sitting in the throne was Aragorn, looking older than the hobbits had ever seen him but with an expression of kindly wisdom upon his lined and knowing face. Beside Aragorn's throne stood another figure, adorned in pure white robes and leaning on a staff.

"Strider! Gandalf!" Sam cried, his voice echoing from the walls. He ran to meet his old friends with a happy smile, but when he reached them, so splendid did they look that he didn't rush to embrace them but fell to one knee and bowed his head. Merry and Pippin did the same, kneeling a little further behind Sam.

"Samwise," Gandalf said, his face grave but a slight and familiar twinkle in his eye, "You should not feel that you must kneel for us, if anything myself and Aragorn should be bowing for you."

"I beg your pardon sir," Sam mumbled, raising his eyes to the old wizard that towered over him. Gently Gandalf reached out and pulled Sam to his feet,

"Samwise, it is good to see you again."

Sam smiled, suddenly relaxing the prescience of his old friends. Aragorn rose from the throne and embraced each of the hobbits in turn.

"This should be a joyous occasion," He told them, indicating for them to sit, "But you know why we are here, and I cannot seem to even raise so much as a smile because of it."

"Indeed," Gandalf nodded, sitting down himself beside Merry, "I myself have been incredibly worried since Frodo's distressing disappearance, and Aragorn and I felt it might be easier to find him with the help of his friends."

"Forgive me Gandalf, but how did you come to be here?" Pippin suddenly asked curiously and Gandalf smiled,

"When I learnt that Frodo was missing, I knew that I must seek help from friends before I went searching for him. I headed for Rivendell, riding on the back of the same creature that saved Sam and Frodo's lives in Mordor."

"Of course, Gwaihir," Sam said and Gandalf nodded.

"So has there been any news of Frodo?" Merry asked the two men and they exchanged a knowing glance.

"No, not yet," Aragorn eventually said, "But there _has _been news of Gollum."

The hobbits stared worriedly and Gandalf continued,

"Smeágol has been sighted not too far from Rivendell. An elf caught a fleeting glimpse of a thin, lank haired creature creeping along the roadside a few miles from here, but before he could do anything the creature vanished, as if into mid-air. We believe that Gollum is heading for the Shire, where he believes that Frodo is."

"But Gollum was killed!" Sam protested, "He fell into Mount Doom with the ring..."

He trailed off his sentence and his eyes widened,

"You're not suggesting, you don't think that the ring is...?"

Aragorn's face became even more sombre,

"I found a piece of old parchment in records going back thousands upon thousands of years to when the ring was forged," He explained, "It said that in the unlikely event that the ring was destroyed, the powers would be banished but the ring would still be whole. The parchment said that if the last creature to bear the ring found it after its powers had gone, the ring would be given one final power. It would give the bearer an oppurtunity to seek revenge on an enemy."

"So Gollum is out to kill Frodo?" Pippin asked, looking perplexed.

The silence that followed answered his question.

"What can we do?" Sam asked after a while, breaking everyone's thoughts.

"We have hatched a plan," Aragorn replied, "But I do not know if it will work. We do not believe that Smeágol will have reached the Ford yet, so if we can identify his where-abouts we can trap him from either side of the Ford and kill him. Then we will go about locating Frodo. It is not destined to suceed, but we will do what we can."

"Then we will help," Merry told him boldly, "We will do all that we can to ensure that this terrible creature is put to rights."

The other hobbits nodded agreeably and the trace of a smile played across Aragorns lips,

"Hobbits, you have not lost your loyalty or bravery and I will be more than grateful if you were to aid us in this plan. I'm sorry to have dragged you from your homes like this."

"We would do anything to help Mr.Frodo," Sam replied, "And I wouldn't have said no to a few nights at Rivendell anyway!"

***

**Next chapter up soon**


	4. The Plan

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

_This is the start of my version of the fourth book of The Lord of the Rings. Although this story may not follow the Appendixes in the back of Return of the King, I tried to keep as close to the story as I could. Please let me know what you think, ideas and constructive critisism are always appreciated._

Chapter 4

"Well, this is familiar!" Pippin announced cheerily as he walked alongside Merry and Sam with Gandalf leading them and Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas taking the rear. Merry smiled but Sam's face remained impassive. Ever since they had set out from Rivendell to enact the plan, Sam had felt a sense of concern and apprehension set around his heart, as if something was warning him that the plan might not be successful. He had tried to ignore the feeling but it was gradually creeping into his thoughts and making him feel nervous. Indeed, his friends had noticed the change in the hobbit and were beginning to worry for him.

"How are you feeling Sam?" Merry asked cautiously, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder and giving him a heartfelt smile, "You don't seem to be saying an awful lot..."

"I'm fine," Sam replied firmly, as if assuring himself as well as his friends, "I'm just concerned about Mr Frodo. The sooner we find Gollum the better I say."

"Don't worry Samwise," Gandalf said from a little way in front of them, "We will reach the river within a few hours and there are already some elves awaiting our arrival. Smeágol will be surrounded. We will do everything we can to make sure that Frodo is safe."

Sam nodded, though the uneasiness that had settled in his mind did not lift. He fixed his eyes on the road ahead and put a little more purposefulness into his stride, focusing all of his thoughts and his energy on reaching the ford and dealing with the creature that had been a threat to him and his master for so long.

***

By the time the reunited Fellowship reached the river, the sky had darkened above them to an inky black. The moon was shadowed in cloud and the stars had been blown out so they could not see more than a few feet ahead. A chilling gale swept around them and they stood shivering in the shelter of a clump of willow trees at the waters edge, hiding until the creature approached.

They now knew for certain that Gollum had not yet crossed the ford, for they had caught a brief glimpse of him from a distance earlier that day, a small hunched figure weaving in and out of the trees, but they had thought it best to stick to their plan than to pursue him. They had marched hard to ensure that they made it to the ford before Smeágol, and they were now exhausted but alert and ready.

"Sam," Aragorn murmured to the hobbit through the darkness, "I think you, Pippin and Merry should go over to the other side of the river. The elves are waiting there and if Gollum decides to run then there will be more of you to catch him."

Sam nodded, a determined expression set on his face, and silently nudged Merry and Pippin. Noiselessly they made their way across the shallow ford, the water barely covering their ankles, and when they reached the other side they were greeted by a band of five more elves sheltering in the trees, each with a quiver slung across their back and a large bow clasped in their hands.

The hobbits turned to look out over the river, straining to see in the blackness. The trap was now set and all they could do was wait for Smeágol.

***

Legolas spotted him first. His keen elf eyes detected the slinking movement as Gollum passed the trees and made his way down to the water. Legolas signalled to Aragorn and Gandalf with the slightest movement of his head and swiftly but in utter silence they drew their arrows.

From the other side of the river Sam had spotted Gollum too, and so had the other elves. They waited, holding their breaths and keeping their bows steady. Merry and Pippin were keeping their eyes fixed intently on Smeágol and Sam did the same, trying desperately not to lose sight of him as the creature took his first steps into the water.

As he reached the middle of the river, Sam saw him more clearly and peered closer in puzzlement. The creature was indeed small and terribly thin and it did walk close to the ground using all four of its limbs, but there was something different about this creature from the creature Sam remembered from Mordor. It seemed more clumsy than it did sly, and from its jerking movements it appeared to be incredibly weary. And when the creature turned its head so that its eyes were gazing up towards their hide-out, they were not huge and bulbous as Gollum's were. Sam felt an intense fear grow inside him as he detected movement from the other side of the ford. Legolas and Aragorn were getting ready to fire, and this creature was not Gollum. Sam cast his eyes over the figure again as it drew nearer to their side of the river and he gasped in recognition, throwing himself forwards out of the trees and half running, half stumbling down to the water.

It was too late. Aragorn's arrow had already been released. Desperately Sam threw himself down over the figure who had just reached the river bank and the two of them fell backwards into the shallow river with a splash. It was then that Sam felt the sharp arrow puncture his shoulder and he gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out in pain. His face was in the icy water and he realised in horror that he couldn't breathe. He tried to push himself up but his shoulder was so painful that the slightest movement was unbearable and his limbs were aching from the cold so he could not muster the strength needed to haul himself out. Everything seemed to be spinning into some terrible black void and he closed his eyes and let it take him, for he was in no state to fight it. The blackness had nearly taken him over and his consciousness had almost fully slipped away when he heard raised voices and something dragging him away from the darkness. Then he heard and saw no more.

***

**Next chapter up soon**


	5. They May Make it Yet

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

_This is the start of my version of the fourth book of The Lord of the Rings. Although this story may not follow the Appendixes in the back of Return of the King, I tried to keep as close to the story as I could. Please let me know what you think, ideas and constructive critisism are always appreciated._

_I also want to thank everyone for your kind reviews so far. I have noticed that some of you have pointed out the fact that Bilbo left for the Gray Havens with Frodo and Gandalf. I'm not going to make an excuse - I simply forgot this fact and I thought that Bilbo stayed at Rivendell. Thankyou to _**Katrine Lila Loamsdown-Fitzgerald **_and _** cold-fire zorra **_for pointing this out to me. _

_This is turning into an extremely long and rambling A/N but I just want to say how well I think the cast and crew of The Lord of the Rings did to win so many BAFTAs. Lets hope they do as well with the Oscars!_

Chapter 5

The first thing Frodo noticed when he woke was the coldness that seemed to surround him. He shivered and wrapped his arms around his body for warmth, his eyelids too heavy with sleep to lift.

"Frodo?"

He ignored the voice, even though he wanted to respond. He didn't want to open his eyes and leave his sleep, they could get him when he was awake.

"Frodo? Can you hear me?"

Reluctantly he opened his eyes and he saw that it was still quite dark, but the blackness had lifted to a dull grey. He looked sideways and saw a figure sitting beside him but he could not muster the strength to turn his head. He closed his eyes again.

"Frodo," The figure spoke again, and this time he lay his hand upon Frodo's forehead as he spoke, "Frodo, do not go back to sleep. You need to have something to eat before you rest again."

Hesitantly Frodo sat up, and at once he clutched his head which was throbbing painfully. He turned to face Aragorn who was sat beside him.

Even though Aragorn's face was creased with worry, the lines in his forehead seemed to smooth and the frown turned into a thin, relieved smile. He took Frodo's hands in his own,

"Frodo, we were so worried. We didn't think you were going to live..."

Frodo gingerly removed his hands from his aching head and looked down. He was wrapped in several soft blankets that seemed to be weaved from elven silks, but the ground that he was lying on was hard.

"Where are we? What happened?" He asked, his voice raspy and hoarse.

"We are a few miles from Rivendell," Aragorn explained gently, "Do you remember nothing of what happened at the ford?"

Frodo thought deeply, trying to recover his memory,

"I remember the darkness," He said finally, "And a sudden shout, and Sam was there...Sam! Of course, I remember!"

He put his head in his hands wretchedly as the memories flowed back,

"Dear Sam, where is he? Is he all right? They just shot at us...for no reason..."

"Sam is badly hurt, Frodo," Aragorn replied, the concern reappearing on his face, "There is too much to explain to you now and you are too weary to hear the tale. I suggest you eat some lembas as they will help to rebuild your strength, and then you can go back to sleep."

Frodo nodded, too worried to argue. He ate several wafers of lemba and took a long draught of water. Before he lay down again he asked Aragorn,

"Where is Sam?"

"He is just over the other side of the fire."

Frodo looked and he saw a sleeping figure wrapped in several rugs lying on the ground quite near to him.

"Can I lay closer to Sam?"

Aragorn nodded and smiled, "Of course. Can you walk?"

Frodo nodded determinedly, but Aragorn had to support him as he stumbled the few yards to Sam's side. Frodo lay down beside his friend so that he was looking into Sam's sleeping face. He felt tears well in his large blue eyes, and he closed them quickly, not wanting Aragorn to see. Within moments he had fallen back to sleep.

***

"Gandalf, I need to talk with you," Aragorn told the old wizard as soon as he was sure that Frodo was asleep. Gandalf had his back the hobbits and was leaning against a tree, smoking his long pipe with a concerned visage on his wise face.

"I see you are as equally concerned as I am, Aragorn," Gandalf said gravely, "You didn't tell Frodo anything?"

"He was in no state to hear it," Aragorn replied, "He is obviously feeling tremendous pain over Sam's injury and he is still extroadinarily thin. When we first recognised him at the ford I felt incredibly foolish to have mistaken him for Gollum, but his face is so drawn and his features so unnaturally gaunt I can now see why we thought so," He lowered his voice and checked that the hobbits were still sleeping, "I don't give out much hope for either of them Gandalf, it would not surprise me if they were to die in their sleep, for the journey to Rivendell would most certainly prove too much for them. Sam's fever is getting awfully high and it does not show sign of breaking. It is best to keep them by the fire so they at least have some comfort."

Gandalf shook his head, "Yes, this copse is satifactory in the fine weather but what if it starts to rain? Aragorn, they cannot stay here."

"I see no other option," Aragorn told him, looking upwards to where the bright sun shone in the blue cloudless sky, "Fortunately the weather seems to be on our side. Gandalf, how did Frodo come to be this way?"

The wizard cast a glance over Frodo's sleeping form and a sadness filled his eyes, as it might do when a grandfather surveyed his ill grandson,

"Aragorn, you and me of all people know that Frodo holds an immense strength of will. For weeks now, ever since Frodo fled from the ship, the ring has been pulling him towards its power, towards Gollum. Frodo has been resisting the power and heading for the Shire, most likely to find Samwise. It takes a great deal of potency to oppose the ring's power, so Frodo has not been able to do anything else but keep going towards his goal. He probably hasn't slept or eaten for days, or perhaps even weeks."

"Indeed, the effort has completely drained him of his strength," Aragorn agreed, "He is deathly cold Gandalf."

Gandalf nodded, "I have sent Legolas back to Rivendell for more blankets. He will be here within a few hours, he is a swift rider. We may save them yet."

Aragorn did not look much comforted, but he nodded and strode off to fetch more firewood. Gandalf watched him go with a heavy heart and turned back to the hobbits. So small and feeble did they look that he almost lost hope himself, but he remembered that they had both made it into the firey realms of Mordor and back and this was a comforting thought.

"Yes, they may make it yet." He murmured.

***

That night Sam's fever rose to a mortal height and he could not break from his sleep. Aragorn, Gandalf and Legolas watched in distress as the hobbit tossed and cried out fretfully in his sleep, loosening the elven silk that was bound around his wound and causing fresh blood to spill.

It wasn't spoken, but the three friends were convinced that Sam would die that night. Therefore it came as an astonishing but delightful relief when the fever suddenly broke in the early hours of the morning, the agitated thrashing in Sam's sleep desisted and the hobbit's face became more eased.

With extreme care, Gandalf freshly dressed the wound in a clean silk, mopped Sam's brow that was damp with sweat with cool water and covered him with more blankets. When this was done he stood back from the hobbit who was now sleeping peacefully.

"If he makes it through the night I have a feeling that he will wake in the morning. Let us all have hope and pray for him."

Sam did wake, only hours later. It was an ironic coincidence that at the moment he woke Aragorn was collecting more firewood, Gandalf had gone to fetch clean water from the ford and Legolas had set off back to Rivendell.

He sat up slowly, gently pushing back the heap of blankets that was covering him with his good arm. He looked around him and saw only trees, then he noticed the figure beside him.

"Frodo!" He exclaimed, feeling his face turn upwards in a smile, his first true smile in many days. To him Frodo looked incredibly sick, white as a sheet and unhealthily frail and shrunken, his limbs almost skeletal. For a terrible moment he thought that his friend was dead. But Frodo suddenly began to stir, and ignoring the incessant pain in his shoulder, Sam gently shook his friend, hoping to rouse him. Presently Frodo opened his eyes and the moment he saw Sam, as if taken by some fresh burst of energy he sat up and threw his arms around his friend, clutching him so tightly that Sam found it painful and difficult to breathe. However, Sam ignored this and returned the embrace, knowing how much Frodo was needing support and care. Shortly Frodo's grip loosened and he sank back into his sheets, looking worse than before, though his face was less taut and his expression held less concern.

"Come now, Mr Frodo," Sam smiled, trying his best to maintain the cheeriness that he usually portrayed, "You've been through a terrible ordeal. You mustn't be jumping up so, you'll make yourself dizzy."

His voice was meant to be light and pleasant but it choked in his throat and sounded strained as if he was holding back tears. He kept silent, trying to recover himself and it soon became apparant that Frodo had fallen back to sleep.

Unable to control himself, Sam started to weep. He wept because of the unbearable pain that swept his body, he wept because he knew not of his other friends and where he was and he wept for his poor sick master who looked so weak and feeble, just an emaciated, pale figure swarmed in blankets yet still shaking from cold.

"Do not be too upset, Samwise," A familiar voice said from behind him. Sam spun round and saw Gandalf looking down at him, a smile on his kindly face.

"Gandalf!" Sam exclaimed and struggled to get up, but Gandalf rested a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down.

"No, do not get up Sam, you need rest. Do not worry for Frodo, I'm sure he will start to mend now that you have woken. He has been deeply concerned about you. We all have."

Sam managed a brief smile and then he was taken by an irresistible weariness. Gandalf sensed this and encouraged Sam to go back to sleep for a while.

When he was sure that the two hobbits were sleeping, he hurried off to tell Aragorn the news, his heart feeling considerably lighter.

***

**Next chapter up soon**


	6. Return to the House of Elrond

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

Chapter 6

The next few days were far less worrying for Gandalf and Aragorn, and they finally began to feel more reassured that Frodo and Sam were on the mend. The two hobbits journeyed to Rivendell with Legolas on his impressive palomino steed that didn't seem to notice the extra weight and flew swiftly back to the house of Elrond.

Elrond himself warmly greeted them when they arrived, immediately making sure that anything they needed was brought to them instantly. Indeed, the hobbits were beginning to feel like royalty, and whereas Frodo was nearly as weary as before and still feeling the power of the ring, Sam began to feel uncomfortable with all the attention. He spent several days exploring Rivendell either on his own or with Merry and Pippin, simply because the heroic treatment he was receiving from the residents was so strange and overwhelming for him.

His shoulder was healing satisfactorily and he was beginning to feel the strength returning to his mind and body. Frodo was also recovering, he could rise from his bed for a few hours a day to get fresh air, but he was terribly thin and didn't seem to have an appetite. Sam was growing increasingly worried for his Master but he kept a cheerful front and kept Frodo company when he wasn't sleeping, entertaining him with a song or a poem or just simple talk of the Shire. Frodo seemed to depend almost entirely on Sam for support and when Sam left him when it was time for Frodo to rest, his face looked wrenched with sorrow and some sort of unknown fear.

After several weeks at Rivendell, Frodo seemed strong enough to get up and wander through the grounds with Sam. They walked at a light pace, and Frodo's worried expression seemed to lift and he was Frodo of the Shire again and this was just another spring walk with his friend. The fresh air seemed to do him good and they conversed merrily as they walked, taking in everything, from the white marble bridges and gushing river to the tall and thin trees that towered above them with an ethereal prescense.

They stopped beneath the shade of a stooping willow by the stream to eat. They had brought thick chunks of bread, wedges of cheese and slices of salted meats, and when Sam rummaged in the bottom of their satchel he produced several wafers of lemba with a laugh,

"Oh Mr.Frodo, do you remember that terrible time we had in Mordor when we ate nothing but lembas for days?"

"Yes, I think I remember the lembas more than anything else," Frodo replied with a slight smile, leaning against the tree, "I cannot stand the sight of them anymore, let alone bring myself to eat them. There was a lot of things that happened in Mordor that changed me. Is it the same for you?"

"I s'pose," Sam replied slowly, as if he was thinking, "I think the biggest change has been that I appreciate things more now. Just to have a nice plate of fried fish and chips round the table at Bag End..."

He trailed off, noticing the odd expression on his friend's face,

"Mr Frodo?"

Frodo looked into Sam's face with his sad blue eyes,

"You just made me think of Gollum," He admitted, "When we were captured by Faramir and Gollum was trying to fish out of the pool..."

To Sam the warm air seemed to turn chilly, and he shivered,

"Don't think about such things, Mr Frodo, he isn't worth thinking about."

"I wish I understood," Frodo murmured, closing his eyes, "No one has explained anything to me yet, and I don't understand how I got to be here, or how you came to be here. All I remember is jumping off a ship into water so freezing cold it is unimaginable, and then I remember running away from something, though it wasn't a person, but it had all the strength of a person and more..."

Sam smiled sympathetically and faced his master squarely,

"I do not fully understand myself," He admitted, "But I'll tell you what I know..."

"The ring didn't lose its entire power when it was consumed by the fires of Mordor. It still has the power to give the last person who beared it the strength to seek revenge on one chosen person. Seeing as Gollum was the last to bear the ring, he has the power and he is seeking revenge on you, drawing you to Mordor where is is supposedly dwelling. Legolas came to the Shire and told me this news and I was taken back to Rivendell. Gollum had been sighted, or so they told me, and we decided to enact a plan to kill him. We were going to trap him at the Ford and shoot him, but it turned out that it wasn't Gollum that had been sighted at all, it was you, and we didn't realise until the last minute..."

"But I don't understand..." Frodo murmured, "How could they possibly think I was Gollum?"

"Come now Mr Frodo," Sam replied cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood, "Even I thought you were Gollum for a moment. You've become so thin lately, and you were hunched up so small..."

"The ring is trying to kill me?" Frodo asked him suddenly, trying to make his voice clear and unafraid but unable to stop it breaking. The silence that followed answered his question,

"And it has such power that it will suceed. You should have let me take that arrow at the ford Sam, it wasn't meant for you."

Sam didn't have an immediate reply to this so he thought deeply, chewing absently on a piece of bread. Eventually he spoke, and when he did his voice was filled with fondness and love and all the other feelings he felt towards his master,

"Mr Frodo, I myself don't know exactly what happened at the Ford, or whether or not that arrow was meant for you or me or anyone else, but I know that all the time we were in Mordor I would have given my life to save you and now is no different. Maybe Gollum will eventually find you and kill you, but before he does he will have to kill me and the whole business with the ring has toughened me up considerably in my opinion. What I'm trying to say Mr Frodo is..."

He searched for the right words whilst Frodo watched him with growing fondness,

"...Well what I'm trying to say is, you've got a lot of friends that care about you, and if that nasty creature comes for you, then he will have to be prepared to fight for you."

He glanced at Frodo, feeling slightly self-conscious and Frodo smiled, a true wide smile.

"Sam..." He started, looking at a loss for words. Sam hastily came to his aid,

"We'd better be packing up to leave Mr. Frodo, I promised Gandalf I'd have you home for sunset and we've come a long way this morning, it will take us a good few hours to get back."

He wrapped the remainders of the food in a cloth and put it carefully into his satchel before helping Frodo to his feet. He was immediatly worried by the lightness of Frodo's weight but he tried not to let it show. The warmth that had seemed so promising that morning was beginning to die and the cold breeze swept around them, making Frodo shiver in his papery skin. Sam gently linked his arm through his master's.

"It's not too far Mr. Frodo, and you can ask me anything you don't understand about how be got here on the way."

"Thankyou Sam," Frodo said simply, and Sam smiled back warmly.

**Next chapter up soon**


	7. Suggestion of a Journey

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

Chapter 7

Gandalf surveyed Aragorn from a distance, watching the still figure intently. Aragorn was standing on the balcony outside Frodo's room, his face turned upwards to the black, velvety sky and his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, as it did so often recently.

Gandalf took a step forward so that he too was standing on the balcony and cleared his throat. Aragorn didn't turn around, but he nodded his head ever so slightly to show that he was aware of Gandalf's presence.

"Frodo is asleep." Gandalf told his friend, moving forwards so that he was beside Aragorn.

"I know," Aragorn replied, remaining motionless, "The walk with Sam has made him weary. Maybe it was too soon to allow him to go..."

"No," Gandalf shook his head, "He needs to start to gather his strength, if he is to go on the journey."

"Gandalf, he will die if he goes with you."

"How do you know? He has proved to be made of more than we bargained for, our quest to destroy the ring has proven that."

"You don't have to tell me that!" Aragorn snapped, suddenly angry, but mostly out of anxiety, "But Frodo is ill, the strength is slowly being derived from him. I think the only thing keeping him alive is Sam."

"Yes, and Samwise will most definitely want to go on this journey," Gandalf replied, "He has a score to settle with Smeágol, I am sure of it. He will want to avenge his master."

"Gandalf, I cannot tell you enough, Frodo will not go! He is too weak! It will most certainly kill him!"

"Maybe so," Gandalf told him calmly, "But staying here, without the comfort of his dearest friend, will do exactly the same."

***

The walk with Sam had exhausted Frodo, and his limbs were so weary by the time they reached his room that he was shaking. Seeing this, Aragorn had made it clear that Frodo must rest immediately, and Frodo had made no objection. He had climbed into bed using his final strength and then fallen to sleep.

He didn't feel as if he had been sleeping more than a few moments, when he heard raised voices from outside his room. Groggily Frodo opened his eyes and pushed himself up onto the pillow. Through the archway he could see two figures standing on his balcony, and in the dim light he could make out that they were Gandalf and Aragorn.

Quietly he pushed back his blankets and gently slid out of the large bed. The room suddenly tipped to one side and began to spin, and he clutched desperately for something to support him, but all he could feel in the darkness was empty space. He felt the wooden floor rise up and hit him hard in the face, and for a moment everything was black.

He came round slowly, a small groan escaping his mouth. He raised his hand to his head and managed to get to his feet, grasping at the bed for support. Shakily he managed to sit on the bed and when his dizziness ceased, he strained to listen to the conversation that was taking place outside.

"...don't you think he's been through enough? He's been to Mordor once, he doesn't need to go back there!"

"Aragorn, please trust me. I think that as long as Sam is by him, Frodo will manage the journey."

"But-"

"Aragorn." Frodo heard the firmness in Gandalf's voice, "He will go."

There was silence and Frodo closed his eyes, desperately trying to figure everything out and ignore his throbbing head. They wanted him to go to Mordor. The very thought made his stomach churn with fear. He remembered the venomous clouds of gas that choked you every time you drew breath, the scarceness of water, the power of the ring heavy on his heart, driving him to the ground so that he could barely stand...

"I won't go..." He whispered to himself, "I couldn't face it again."

The door suddenly opened and another figure stood in the doorway. Frodo could make out the small, stocky shape.

"Sam?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, it's me Mr.Frodo," Sam replied in a whisper, "My room is below yours and I heard a bang. I came to see what had happened."

"I..I fell out of bed," Frodo told him, feeling foolish, "Did I wake you?"

"No, no, I was awake anyway. Just thinking, like."

"Aragorn and Gandalf are out there," Frodo said, seeing Sam draw nearer as his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, "They don't know I'm awake."

"What are they talking about?" Sam asked curiously, peering out onto the balcony where the two figures were in deep conversation.

"Me, mostly," Frodo sighed, indicating for Sam to sit beside him on the bed, "They want me...well us...to go the Mordor."

Frodo heard Sam take inhale sharply,

"They can't seriously expect you to go? After everything that's happened?"

Frodo didn't reply, but he noticed that the voices outside had faded and he saw that his two friends were now gazing wordlessly up at the sky.

"You must go back to your room Sam," Frodo told him, though he was glad of the company, "They may be angry if they know I've been eavesdropping."

"All right Mr.Frodo, you need your rest anyhow," Sam agreed, getting up quietly and tiptoeing to the door. Frodo stood up to straighten the bed clothes and the room began to spin violently again.

"Sam.." Frodo cried, forgetting to be quiet. His voice carried outside and Gandalf and Aragorn turned their heads and saw that the two hobbits were awake.

"Mr.Frodo?" Sam asked worriedly, dashing forwards to steady his master, "Frodo? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'll be all right, I'm fine..." Frodo muttered almost incoherently and Sam shook Frodo by the shoulder worriedly, trying to wake him. Gandalf and Aragorn both strode into the room, looks of equal concern on their faces.

"Sam, what happened?" Gandalf asked urgently, laying his hand on Frodo's forehead.

"He nearly collapsed," Sam replied anxiously , "I think he's fainted."

"I'm fine," Frodo protested, his voice slightly more clear. His eyes opened hesitantly.

Sam sighed in relief, "You had me worried there, Mr. Frodo!"

"Yes, you had us all worried," Aragorn agreed, glancing sideways at Gandalf, "Just what are you doing, up in the middle of the night when I strictly told you to get some rest?"

"I heard raised voices," Frodo replied weakly with his head resting in his hands as he tried to regain full consciousness, "I wanted to make sure that everything was all right, but when I got up I fell, and I must have hit my head..."

Gandalf shook his head slowly and shot Aragorn a worried frown,

"And Samwise? Why are you up so late?"

"I heard a loud bang, y'see my room is right below Mr. Frodo's," Sam told the old wizard, feeling guilty under his stare even though he'd done no wrong.

"Well, I think we've had enough excitement for one night," Aragorn told them, "Frodo, get back to sleep. Sam, you go back downstairs."

The two hobbits nodded obediently, still slightly nervous that their two friends would be mad at them for eavesdropping.

Sam retreated from the room, casting one final, concerned look at his master before closing the door gently behind him. Frodo watched him go with a heavy heart, before climbing back under the blankets and closing his eyes.

"Frodo, what did you hear of our talk?" Gandalf asked gravely. The hobbit did not answer.

"Frodo?" Aragorn prompted, but there was still no reply. The only noise in the dark room was the sound of Frodo's even breathing from beneath the sheets.

"He's fallen back to sleep," Aragorn murmured, "I hope he didn't hurt himself badly when he fell..."

"His head will be aching tomorrow," Gandalf replied quietly, "But I do not think the damage will be too terrible. We'll talk to him about his journey in the morning."

Aragorn didn't reply for a few moments, then he gave a nod of his head and briskly left the room, leaving the door open behind him and letting the light shine in from the corridor outside. The light cast across Frodo's face and his eyes twitched in his sleep. Gandalf sighed heavily and followed Aragorn, shutting the door silently after him.

**Next chapter up soon**


	8. The Hope Fades

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

_This is quite a short chapter, but the next one will be longer. Thank you to everyone for the reviews, they are very much appreciated._

Chapter 8

Gandalf had always admired Rivendell, perhaps more than anywhere else in the whole of the Middle-Earth. What he liked most was the tranquility, the way that he could escape any problem by just standing beneath the trees and closing his eyes against the world.

As the old wizard cast his gaze out over the horizon, he saw that the sky that had been so black only an hour before was beginning to lift into the palest grey, tinted with the slightest smudge of pink where the sky met the mountain peaks, far off in the distance.

Gandalf sighed deeply as dawn began to flood the middle earth, delicately touching the highest leaves of the trees and glancing off the swirling river. He was weary and for once in his life, he felt frail and weak. He would have liked to have seen it to the end with Frodo, but he knew now that it wasn't possible. His time had come when they had left for the Grey Havens, and he shouldn't have left the ship. For Frodo it had been fate, for himself, just a quick decision based on his fondness of the hobbit.

The wizard slowly walked back into his chambers that Elrond had arranged for him, and sat down heavily in the beautifully carved rocking chair that sat at his bedside. His eyes, crinkled around the edges with lines of age, fluttered lightly shut. He knew that Aragorn had been convinced and that Frodo would go to Mordor. He could at last rest peacefully without need for worry.

For the last time, Gandalf let his mind drift to sleep, feeling contented as the first light of the early summer morning began to find its way into the room...

***

For a reason unknown to him, Frodo woke early the next morning, before dawn had fully broken and the sky was still fairly dark, as if in a fog.

As he had expected, his head was throbbing from his fall and he moved carefully as he walked to his balcony, relieved that the room was no longer spinning.

The hobbit looked out over Rivendell in a respectful awe, taking in every last inch of its beauty. Despite his headache, he was feeling better that morning than he had in a long time. He was still fearing the journey to Mordor, but he reminded himself that Gandalf was his oldest friend, and he had always been right about everything, as far as Frodo could remember. If returning to Mordor was what Gandalf wished of him, then he would go, and if it meant that Smeágol would be killed and the ring finally destroyed, he knew that it was his duty to go.

It suddenly seemed urgent to Frodo that Gandalf must know his discussion right away, even if this meant rousing the wizard so early in the morning.

Frodo pulled on his battered clothes and hastily made his bed, before leaving the room and setting off down the stone steps to Gandalf's room.

Sunlight was just beginning to filter into the courtyard that separated Frodo's room from Gandalf's, and Frodo could make out the blossom trees that were in full bloom, the branches showered with pink and white flowers, like jewelled rings on a finger. Their petals covered the stone floor beneath Frodo's feet like a grand carpet.

Frodo ventured through the archway into a narrow stone corridor lined with windows and heavy wooden doors. He passed several doors until he came to the correct one, and gently he knocked, feeling some stray blossom petal that had been swept in by the wind under his feet. When he heard no reply, Frodo knocked again, slightly louder this time, before slowly opening the door. It creaked on its hinges, but there was still no sound of stirring from within the room.

"Gandalf?" He asked quietly, "Are you awake?"

When no answer was given, Frodo closed the door behind him in puzzlement and looked around the room. It was fairly large, larger than his own, with an oak bed in the centre. Several shelves of books lined the walls and a small writing desk sat in one corner, covered in parchment and pots of ink. The light seeped in from the balcony at the far end of the room, and in the shadow beside the bed, Frodo could make out a figure sitting motionless in a large, beautifully carved rocking chair.

"Gandalf!" Frodo said, his voice louder this time as he approached the wizard. He reached out cautiously and gently shook the wizard's shoulder, but he made no movement. A silent dread began to creep through Frodo's body, as if ice was freezing his insides. It crept through his chest and froze around his heart, which still managed to beat wildly. Frodo shook Gandalf's shoulder perpetually, telling himself that the wizard was simply sleeping, and that he would wake up in a moment and everything would be all right again...

But Gandalf did not wake, and as a slow realisation dawned on the hobbit, the ice inside of him melted and warm tears began to slide down his cheeks.

Heavily and in disbelief, Frodo sank down slowly onto the bed, shaking uncontrollably from sadness and anger. He looked through the archway out onto the balcony. Everything was smudged and blurred, disfigured by his tears, and he was reminded of how things had appeared when he had put on the ring. Just thinking of it sent fear churning in his stomach and he felt the uncontrollable pull of the ring on him once more, worse than it had ever been, and he knew that he was lost, and his fate would be to die as Gandalf had. And there, alone in the eerily silent room beside the dead body of one of his oldest friends, Frodo felt afraid.

***

"Think, Samwise," The hobbit muttered to himself frustratedly as he stood in his room, his arms folded and his eyes raised to the ceiling as he thought. On the bed lay a small open satchel, the contents spilling onto the blankets. There were several lembas, a flask of water and a cake of soap, wrapped carefully in a large leaf. Sam observed his belongings, searching his brain to make sure that he had not forgotten anything. He suddenly remembered, went to the table beside his bed and picked up his best pipe and a small pouch filled with some of his finest weed. He slipped these into the satchel, and finally contented he slung the bag over his shoulder and picked up his stick that was leaning against the wall beside the door. With a deep sigh he gave one final look around the room that he had called home for the past few weeks, and then hurried through the door, anxious to be gone before anyone was awake. If he was going to attempt to save his Master, he knew that it must be done properly.

**Next chapter up soon**


	9. Decisions to Make

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

_This is quite a short chapter, but the next one will be longer. Thank you to everyone for the reviews, they are very much appreciated._

_I'm sure that all the fans of the movie were dissappointed with the Oscar results, I know I was, but we've still got two years to go!_

Chapter 9 

"Aragorn?" 

Arwen's faint, yet familiar voice reached him from where he leant in the courtyard, beside a small fountain that continuously spouted clear sparkling water. He didn't reply but kept his eyes on the fountain, watching the water jump into the air in droplets, only to fall back down into the shimmering pool in a flurry of splashing ripples. Never-ending and eternal, an endless circuit... 

"Aragorn?" 

The closeness of the voice startled him and he jumped in surprise. Arwen rested her hand on his shoulder. 

"I was just..." He trailed off with a sigh, unable to see the point of finishing his sentence, or indeed see the point in anything anymore. 

"Where is Frodo?" Arwen asked, her sweet and soothing voice only a small comfort to him. 

"I sent him back to his room, he was not really himself. I can't imagine the pain he is experiencing at moment." 

"I think you can," Arwen replied softly, taking in her lover's drawn and haggard face, wreathed in sadness and despair. Aragorn met her eyes and she returned his gaze with concern, 

"Did you tell Frodo about Sam leaving?" 

"No." Aragorn answered in murmur, "It would have destroyed him to hear it." 

"Can't you go after him?" 

Aragorn shook his head, "Sam has taken the swiftest of horses. He will be far away by now..." 

"You cannot lose hope so easily!" Arwen disputed, the slightest flare of anger awake in her eyes, "Send Legolas, he rides swifter than any of our kind!" 

"Arwen," Aragorn said in a slow and grieved voice, "Hope is already lost." 

Arwen considered him for a few moments, searching his face, 

"No," She said finally, her eyes narrow, "No Aragorn, hope is only lost if you lose faith, and I know that you would not lose faith so readily." 

Her tone softened as she took in Aragorn's tired eyes and weary features, 

"You are grieved over the death of Gandalf," She told him quietly, "And you are worried about Frodo, but you cannot give up! Somewhere beyond here your friend is alone, searching for something that he will not find without your help, and if you don't send someone to Sam's aid you will be giving up on him _and _Frodo, and you will be betraying Gandalf's wish." 

Aragorn surveyed her with silent wonder and respect, feeling such love for her that could not be voiced with simple words. 

"Very well," He said, the faintest trace of hope creeping into his voice and the despondency beginning to lift from his eyes, "I will send Legolas after Sam, and maybe if luck goes our way, he will find him in time." 

Arwen smiled serenely, in obvious approval of Aragorn's decision, 

"Then go now," She told him, "There is not a moment to spare, for even as we speak Sam is slipping from our grasp." 

Aragorn nodded and hurried from the courtyard, leaving Arwen alone in the peaceful silence, broken only by the sound of water trickling over stone from the fountain beside her. 

*** 

Loneliness was the main emotion that Frodo was feeling as he sat on his bed in the late hours of the morning, completely alone in his silent room. He had recovered from earlier that day when Aragorn had found him in Gandalf's room, exhausted from grief and barely conscious. Now he was in need of the sight of a friendly face, but none of his friends had come to visit him and he didn't feel that he had the strength to walk around at the moment. 

He was still very much in shock from Gandalf's death. He felt that something was missing from him, as if someone had ripped a chunk from his soul. He didn't know whether he should be sad or angry. All he felt was an incessant solitude and the pull of the ring beginning to build once again, stronger and more persistent than ever before... 

Finally, just when he was about to gather his strength and try and find Sam, Frodo heard voices from beneath his balcony. Shakily he walked out into the bright sunlight and crouched down low so that he could hear what they were saying. He instantly recognised the voice as Aragorn's, 

"...he must be quite far away by now, so you must ride harder than you ever have before. This is extremely important, Legolas." 

"And if I can't find him?" 

"Keep looking. If you find Sam then there is still hope for Frodo, if not..." 

There was a brief silence, then, 

"I understand. I'll go straight away." 

"Thankyou Legolas, may luck be on your side." 

Frodo heard the footsteps fading and he leant dizzily against the smooth wall of the balcony, his heart thudding. Sam had gone to Mordor alone to try and save him. He hit his head on the wall in frustration, hating himself for not guessing what Sam would do. The dizziness increased but he did not wait for it to subside. 

With all the strength in his frail limbs, Frodo pushed himself to his feet and hurriedly left the room. He hastened down the staircase to the courtyard and made his way to the stables as fast as his legs would allow. 

Frodo found Legolas securing the bridle of his Palomino, and the elf raised his head in surprise when he heard the hobbit's clumbsy feet enter the stable. 

"Frodo!" He exclaimed, his face puzzled, "What are you doing here?" 

"I'm coming with you," Frodo told him, managing to keep his voice steady, but having to lean on the door for support as the blackness threatened to cloud his eyes. 

Legolas considered him, taking in his skeletal figure, his wheezing breath and the faded look in his eyes, 

"No Frodo," He replied gently, leading the horse out of the stable. Frodo followed him into the sunlit yard, 

"You can't stop me," He argued, his face pale but determined. 

Legolas knew perfectly well that he could simply mount and gallop away before the hobbit had a chance to protest, but something in the depths of his heart was telling him to wait, 

"Frodo," He reasoned, "You're sick, the journey may very well kill you!" 

"I've looked death in the face more than a few times in the past," Frodo answered as Legolas rose onto the horse, "I'm not scared." 

Legolas let out a deep sigh, 

"It will be very hard going, I'll be riding extremely fast..." 

Frodo saw that he was weakening, "Please Legolas, you must let me come!" 

Legolas shook his head, his face full of genuine sympathy, before digging his heels deep into the horse's sides so that it reared and broke into an immediate gallop. Frodo quickly dodged into its path and the horse reared again, nearly trampling the hobbit, but Frodo stood his ground and glared up at the elf defiantly, 

"Frodo!" Legolas said in exasperation, trying to calm his horse, "Get out of the way!" 

"No!" Frodo replied, his arms flung out and his breath coming out in gasps, "I won't!" 

Legolas shut his eyes, thinking quickly. With a defeated sigh he dismounted and faced Frodo squarely, and the hobbit's eyes never left his own. 

"Alright," Legolas told him simply and the hobbit nodded in thanks, though he swayed slightly, as if he was going to faint. Legolas quickly hoisted him up onto the horse before sitting behind him and seizing the reins. 

"Now hold on to the mane tightly," The elf said, "I'm not going to go any slower than I usually would." 

"I didn't ask you to," Frodo replied, clutching the horse's silky mane in his hands. 

"Aragorn is going to kill me..." Legolas muttered to himself, before kicking the horse once more. It lunged into a rapid gallop and Frodo felt the wind whip back his hair and water streaming from his eyes. 

Unsure of whether he was doing the right thing, Legolas urged the horse away from the House of Elrond and into the wilderness, to find Sam. 

**Next chapter up soon**


	10. Prisoners and False Impressions

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

Chapter 10 

Gollum was weary to the point of exhaustion, but he didn't stop. He was hungry, driven by a craving for revenge. His shrunken and wasted body trembled as he clambered through the dense undergrowth at the side of the river Bruinen. He had journeyed for weeks with barely any rest or food at all. He had left Mordor on his purposeful quest, the ring on one of his bony fingers, its shine long faded and holding no powers save the ability to provide Gollum with the strength to seek revenge upon his most hated enemy. Without the ring, Gollum would have long since perished from hunger and tiredness, but due to his power the foul and decayed creature was able to make the long and tedious journey to The Shire, where he believed Frodo was. 

He had avoided Lórien, mainly because of his endless hatred and fear of the elven folk, and he intended to do exactly the same when he reached Rivendell. As he neared the final stages of his pursuit, the creature felt the intense hunger grow inside him, and he repeatedly visualised the moment when his fingers would find the Frodo's throat and proceed in strangling the very breath from his lungs. Each time this grotesque thought entered his rotted mind, Gollum would smile cruelly and a look of perverse happiness would spread over his ghastly face. 

He was still many miles from Rivendell, but he did not for a moment consider abandoning his quest. Steadily he journeyed on, drawing nearer and nearer to his goal. 

It was in the early hours of the morning, nearly dawn, when Smeágol spotted something in the trees by the river. Stealthily he crept towards the glade, keeping his head low and his body close to the ground. Through the branches and the gloom he could pick out the shape of a large white horse and a small figure. The figure was laying in the grass, his chest rising and falling in a constant rhythm. Gollum felt a stir of excitement as he recognised the figure as a hobbit, and he prowled even closer, not making a sound. As the hobbit's face became visible, the creature gave a hiss of disgust and disappointment. It was not Frodo at all, but his suspicious companion. A look of despising formed on his face as he peered down, but suddenly it dissolved into a sly smile as a plan quickly formulated in his mind. As much as he loathed the hobbit, it could have its uses. 

Noiselessly Smeágol rummaged through the contents of the hobbit's satchel, and to his delight he found a tin flask. He slunk back over to Sam again, who was just beginning to stir, and brought the flask down on the hobbit's head with all the strength in his scrawny arms, until he was certain that he was completely unconscious. Then Gollum quickly removed Sam's elven clasp and cloak, shuddering as his hands touched the silky material. He drew the small dagger from the hobbit's sheath and slashed the cloak savagely and repeatedly, spittle escaping his mouth and a wild, vicious look in his moon-like eyes. He then took the cloak out of the small copse and spread it on the path by the riverside, setting the leaf clasp in the middle with a contented cackle. 

Smeágol then hurried back to the hobbit and saw that there was also some old and discarded elven rope in the very bottom of the satchel, the very same kind that had been used to bound his hands and feet on the outskirts of the marshes. Gollum hastily snatched the twine from the bag and quickly used it to secure the hobbit's wrists and ankles, ignoring the pain that he felt in his hands when they made contact with the rope. 

Blessed with fresh strength, Gollum grabbed a chunk of the hobbit's hair and dragged him away and deeper into the woods to wait. 

*** 

Legolas and Frodo had been riding for many hours, through the entire night. Legolas was beginning to feel exhausted, and he knew that they must rest soon, perhaps when it was light again. Frodo had not spoken since they set off from Rivendell, so the elf was not sure if he was awake or sleeping. He was deeply concerned for him and was regretting allowing him to come. 

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Legolas cast his eyes out over the path ahead, and spotted something in the road. It was still not wholly light and he peered hard to try and distinguish what it was. As they drew nearer he gave the reins a sharp tug and the horse slowed to a trot and then into a steady walk. The hobbit did not stir so quietly Legolas brought the horse to a stand and smoothly dismounted. He walked the remaining distance to the object on the path, and when he reached it he inhaled sharply. He knelt down and picked up the beautiful pin and cloak, his eyes widening in shock. 

"What is it?" 

The elf started when he heard the voice behind him, and he turned to see Frodo standing behind him, his face pale and his eyes puzzled. 

"It's..." Legolas did not finish his sentence, but stared down at the items in his hands. He heard Frodo come closer and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see the hobbit's reaction. 

"But..." The hobbit could not say anything more, but he sank to his knees opposite Legolas and stared at Sam's things. Frodo's whole body began to tremble and the elf observed him worriedly, not knowing what to do. 

Frodo dug his fingers into the muddy path as an unbearable and overwhelming sadness swept his body like a wave and left him completely numb, 

"You were right," He murmured. 

"Right about what?" Legolas prompted quietly, feeling tears at the corners of his eyes. 

"You were all right," Frodo said, his voice suddenly loud and enraged. He stood up unexpectedly, "You, Aragorn, Sam! I _was _too weak to come, I'm too weak to do anything! If I'd have been stronger then none of this..." He angrily gestured towards the ruined cloak, "...none of this would have happened. He came out here to save me," The anger abruptly died and his voice cracked, "Sam is dead, and it's my fault." 

Legolas didn't know what to say, so he remained silent, and silent tears began to spill down Frodo's face as he collapsed back to the ground. 

They sat like there for what seemed hours until gradually the sound of horse hooves broke the silence that had fallen. Legolas dragged himself to his feet and looked back along the path from where they had come. He saw another horse rushing towards them, and as it neared the elf recognised the rider as Aragorn. Frodo didn't raise his head. 

Within minutes Aragorn had reached them and he dismounted quickly, glancing at Frodo in concern before turning to Legolas, 

"What is it?" He asked urgently, seeing the elf's dispirited expression and red eyes. Legolas thrust the slashed cloak into Aragorn's hands and he held it up, feeling the shock hit him as realisation dawned. 

Discarding the cloak, Aragorn rushed quickly to Frodo, who was still hunched silently in the road. 

"Frodo?" He asked quietly, and the hobbit raised his eyes, only half conscious. Aragorn pulled his friend to him, feeling the hobbit tremble in his arms. 

"Is there no use left in hoping?" Legolas asked softly. Aragorn did not reply. 

**Next chapter up soon**


	11. Smeágol's Plot

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

Chapter 11 

Aragorn quickly put together a fire by the roadside and gave Frodo his cloak. Almost at once the hobbit fell to sleep, and Legolas and Aragorn sat wordlessly by the crackling blaze, their heads bent in thought and sorrow. 

"I'm sorry," Legolas said presently, "I should not have brought him." 

"What's past is past," His friend replied quietly. 

"Will Sam's death be the end of Frodo?" The elf asked softly. 

"If Sam is indeed dead." 

"What do you mean?" 

Aragorn raised his eyes, and they showed a faint glimmer of hope, 

"I think that Gollum might be trying to use Sam as a snare to lure Frodo to him. As long as Frodo is alive, I believe that Smeágol will keep Sam alive." 

Legolas stared at him, "Do you really think Sam could still be living?" 

Aragorn rose to his feet and put his hand on the elf's shoulder, "Do not give up hope just yet." 

*** 

Sam felt incredibly sick and thirsty when he woke, and everything seemed blurred and obscured. An immense pounding in the side of his head made his eyes heavy, and he had a strange metallic flavour in his mouth, like the taste of blood. His arms were raised and secured above his head, and as his senses sharpened the hobbit realised that he was in a clearing amongst some trees and he was tied up. A fire spluttered and sparked only several feet away, and behind the fire he saw a creature, sitting on its haunches and eating something. He recognised it immediately as Gollum. 

The hobbit took a closer look at his surroundings, wondering in utter confusion if he was in Mordor. But that thought was soon expelled from his mind as he took in the beautiful green trees that surrounded him. Nothing that lovely had ever grown in Mordor. 

Smeágol suddenly looked up and saw that Sam was awake. He stole closer, a low hiss escaping his mouth. Sam narrowed his eyes in repulsion. 

"Nasssty hobbit...susspiciousss hobbit...we'll teach him a lessssson won't we my preciousss?" 

Gollum drew so near that he was only inches away from the hobbit, and Sam took every fibre of hatred in his body and spat savagely into the creature's wretched face. 

Smeágol let out a cry of anger and ran back to the fire, only to return seconds later with a small blade that Sam recognised as his own. Gollum held it to Sam's cheek, a thin smile on his lips. Sam tried not to let the fear show in his expression as the metal grazed his skin. 

"You will be nice to ussss, nasssty hobbit or I will kill you...yess ssslit you open...ssslit you... just like I did to your friend..." 

Sam stared at Smeágol, the anger in his eyes replaced with concern, 

"What do you mean? Where is Mr. Frodo?" 

"Hisss body issss in those treess..." Gollum replied, gesturing behind him but never letting his eyes leave Sam's. 

Sam's face formed an expression of pure detesting, 

"You're lying!" 

Smeágol did not reply, but his malicious smile widened and he applied more pressure to the knife. Sam felt the blade break his skin and he saw his own crimson blood trickle over the metal and down the hilt. 

Satisfied, Gollum took the blade away and went back to the fire to finished his meal. Sam watched him, a mixture of emotions enveloping his mind. The strongest of all was the inconceivable anxiety he felt towards his master, and he felt tears creep into his eyes as he imagined Frodo's body, sprawled behind the trees, stabbed and slashed and stained in blood. He shivered suddenly and felt weariness overcome him. He let sleep consume him, unable to see any purpose in staying awake. 

*** 

The shock of Sam's death hit Frodo again when he woke, and he lay, clutching Aragorn's cloak and shivering against the cold that had seemed to besiege him. He kept his eyes shut, and he vaguely heard voices, though they sounded very faint. 

"...Frodo will want to aid us in the search..." 

"I think it is best not to tell him. There is no point building up his hopes, and if we do find Sam then Gollum is sure to be waiting for us." 

"Do you wish me to escort him back to Rivendell?" 

"I think that would be for the best." 

Frodo felt an immense joy wash over him as he realised what they were saying. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up, his limbs stiff and aching. 

"How are you feeling?" Aragorn asked gently, watching him in concern. 

"I'm going to help you search for Sam," He told them determinedly. 

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged an uneasy glance, 

"No Frodo. I shouldn't have let you come with me in the first place, you're definitely not strong enough to search in the cold. You should be in bed, resting." 

Frodo couldn't build up the stamina to argue, so he fell silent and watched his friends. 

"I'll take Frodo back," Legolas told Aragorn, getting to his feet and going to retrieve his steed which was grazing peacefully by the river. 

"I'm not going back." Frodo muttered, and Aragorn sighed, 

"Frodo, we don't want to see you get hurt..." 

"I am already hurt!" Frodo cried, his voice loud but shaking, "I need Sam! I need to know that he is all right! This is my fault Aragorn, and I have to set things right!" 

Aragorn considered him gravely for a few moments, before turning to the elf, 

"Legolas, Frodo will come with us." 

Legolas raised his eyebrows but did not say anything, and Frodo raised his eyes to his friend with an expression of deep gratitude, 

"Thankyou." 

Aragorn nodded, looking angry with himself, before getting to his feet, 

"Come then," He ordered, "We can ride into the forest, for it is quite sparse. Frodo, you take Sam's horse. We'll search until we find him." 

**Next chapter up soon**


	12. Revenge

I do not own The Lord of the Rings or any of the characters 

Chapter 12 

They searched the woods all day and well into the night without rest. At first Aragorn tried to keep them all together, but they soon realised that the forest was too large and that they would have to split up and hunt alone. 

Darkness fell and Frodo stumbled on, the pain and cold he was feeling driven away by his determination to find his friend. The pull of the ring was growing unbearable, and Frodo knew that Gollum was close. 

The hobbit wanted to shout his friend's name, but he was afraid that Sméagol would hear him first, so he blundered silently through the trees, loneliness setting in on his heart and hope beginning to fade. 

After what seemed like an age, Frodo staggered into a small clearing, his legs unable to take the strain any longer. He collapsed in the wet grass, feeling the mud on his face as he shivered against the cold. 

When a few moments had passed he raised his head and to his astonishment saw a blazing fire only feet away from him. He scrambled quickly to his feet and he detected a motionless figure near the trees behind the fire. 

A flurry of hope made Frodo's heart skip and beat and he darted forwards to the figure, recognising the familiar short and stocky siloutte against the flames. However, the hope began to fade as he saw that his friend was completely still, his arms tied to the low branches of the tree so that his feet were slightly above the ground. Frodo ran to his side and worriedly took in Sam's closed eyes, the large purple bruise down one side of his forehead and the dried blood on his cheek. 

"Sam!" He said, his voice coming out in no more than a whisper, "Sam! Wake up!" 

He urgently whispered his name again and shook his arm vigorously in an attempt to wake him. 

"Please...wake up..." Frodo cried desperately, refusing to accept the awful feeling that was in the pit of his stomach. 

He sank to the ground at the foot of the tree and tried despondently not to weep. 

"Mr. Frodo?" 

Frodo started and looked up, and saw Sam squinting down at him, looking drowsy and confused. The hobbit leapt to his feet and stared at his friend. 

"Sam, dear Sam," He said, his eyes damp with tears, "I thought..." 

He trailed off and closed his eyes, weak with relief. 

"Master, what are you doing here? That stinker - he'll be back any minute. He told me you were dead!" 

"Well I'm not, I had to find you..." 

Frodo gave a faint smile and Sam returned it, the emotion they were feeling completely mutual. 

"Come on," Sam said suddenly after a few moments, "Get that knife from over by the fire and cut these ropes." 

Frodo quickly retrieved the knife and sliced the rope, leaving Sam free. As soon as he could move his hands, Sam embraced Frodo lovingly. 

"Sam, you should never have set out for Mordor," Frodo told him, "It wasn't your place." 

"It was Mr.Frodo," Sam said simply, "And I know that you would have done exactly the same for me." 

To this Frodo had no answer so Sam said, 

"Quick, we've got to go. Gollum could be anywhere-" 

The words had barely escaped his mouth before something smashed into his back from behind. Sam plummeted to the ground and landed in the mud, momentarily dazed. Frodo saw that Gollum had leapt on him from the nearby undergrowth but before he could aid his friend in any way, Frodo felt the relentless pain in his heart increase as the presence of the ring finally enclosed him. Hopelessly the hobbit fell to his knees and bent his head to the ground, unable to do anything to prevent the torturous agony from swallowing him into its black, cavernous depths. He called his friend's name with the last ounces of strength that he possessed. 

Satisfied for the moment that Sam was unconcious, Gollum picked himself up and crept over to Frodo, running his tongue over his rotten yellow teeth with a ravenous grin. He watched the hobbit as the ring's power tortured him and made him cry out in pain. Sméagol's grin widened as he realised that the hobbit was in no fit state to fight, and that he would be able to draw out the death to the fullest extent without much struggle. 

Gollum seized Frodo by his hair and forced the hobbit to look straight up into his eyes. Perspiration trickled down Frodo's forehead and his eyes were cloudy, as if his soul and spirit were fading, 

"Nasssty hobbit..." Gollum hissed savagely, his putrid breath on Frodo's face, "Yesss my precioussss...he will be sorry..." 

The creature released the grip on the hobbit's hair and laced his wasted fingers around his neck. Frodo choked violently and yelled in anguish as the gold band around Sméagol's finger made contact with his skin and the grip grew tighter. He screwed up his eyes as the grasp on his throat became completely unendurable and death threatened to compass him. With immense fear Frodo felt a terrible and familiar darkness close in on him from all sides... 

Then to his disbelief the fingers around his neck loosened and the blackness faded to grey. Trembling in pain and shock, Frodo took deep breaths of air as his vision began to clear and his senses sharpened. 

His heart bounded as he saw Sam wrestling determinedly with Sméagol in a fierce battle. Neither of them looked ready to give up. 

Acting completely on impulse and because of the love for his friend, Frodo managed to crawl to the foot of the tree and retrieve Sam's small sword. He turned and saw that Gollum had pinned Sam to the ground and was glaring down at him, his shoulders heaving in weariness and murderous glint in his eyes. 

Screwing up every last scrap of courage, bravery and loyalty, Frodo leapt at Gollum and sliced the blade deeply into his side. Sméagol yowled in pain and flung out his arm, sending Frodo into a sprawled pile in the mud. Forgetting Sam, Gollum raised the blood stained blade and brought it ferociously down into Frodo's chest, twisting it slowly and watching with insane satisfaction as the last of the hobbit's life was drained and he became completely still. 

Sam watched in horror and rage as Sméagol finally enacted his revenge, knowing that there was nothing he could do. 

After a few moments Gollum staggered backwards and dropped the dagger before clutching his wound with a miserable cry. Driven by fury, Sam stumbled to his feet and picked up the blade and without stopping to think he thrust it hard into the vile creature's throat. 

At last silence settled over the clearing as Sam collapsed on the ground beside his master's body. Sam gently took Frodo's cold hands in his own and through his tears he saw that his master's face was completely white and his eyes were closed. Reminded bitterly of Mordor and Shelob, Sam cradled Frodo's body close, still wanting to protect him and keep him safe. He didn't notice night set in or the cold that began to enclose his body, but he remained sitting on the ground with his master until eventually the weariness overcame him and without knowing it he felt gently to sleep. 


End file.
